


Memories

by inspiredbythemusic



Series: Super Junior Drabbles [2]
Category: Super Junior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiredbythemusic/pseuds/inspiredbythemusic
Relationships: Kim Jongwoon | Yesung/Reader, Kim Jongwoon | Yesung/You
Series: Super Junior Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694803
Kudos: 7





	Memories

When Yesung learned that you had never been to the beach— well, you did spend less than an hour eating ice cream in the sand over spring break years ago before heading home from your first international trip to Disney World, but apparently that didn’t count— he wasted no time in packing your bags and booking your flight. 

Yesung had been like this for as long as you had known him: willing to drop anything and everything in the name of seeing the world. Sometimes this habit made your head spin, neck stiffening from whiplash. Once you caught your breath, however— usually after being seated on the flight— his eagerness to see and experience everywhere without fear of distance or language barriers was what you admired most. 

Once upon a time, it would have hurt your feelings that Yesung dropped your hand to type on his phone. You would have sighed at his preference to watch the crashing waves through his camera’s lens when he could have admired them with no electronic barrier like you did. This time, on the beach, it didn’t bother you. 

On your last trip, when Yesung whisked you off to Amsterdam after you made some casual wistful comment like, “I would love to see the tulip festival one day,” you expressed your frustration with his addiction to social media. In hindsight, you could admit that your frustrations were exaggerated by the facts that a.) you were terribly jetlagged, b.) one of your bags (which contained your longtime favorite hoodie) had been lost at the airport, and c.) you had been dreaming of visiting Amsterdam since you were thirteen years old, and Yesung was spending the  **_entire_ ** time on his phone while you tried to point out all the things you were excited to see in real life. 

You should have been more gentle in your tone. Yesung’s feelings could be wounded by the faintest breeze, so you knew that his wince was an authentic reaction to your words. 

“I’m sorry,” he replied as he set his phone face down on the table. (You had been waiting for the server to return with your meal for ages, which was probably another cause of your irritability.) “I just— I like taking pictures to share with ELF so much that I forget to enjoy this time with you.”

When he blinked like that— like he was on the verge of tears— it was easy to forget that he was the older one. He usually embraced your age difference by paying for meals, paying for hotels and flights, paying for everything, giving you everything. He only looked for you to stand by his side, and laugh at his jokes, and hold his hand, and give him love— all tasks that came naturally to you.

And when he blinked like that, when he looked so  **_sad_ ** when he had been smiling at his phone just moments ago, you felt like you had failed in your half of the relationship. 

You scrambled to sit by his side, took on of his hands in yours, and traced your fingers along his knuckles, promising, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” because although you meant what you said— it  **_was_ ** annoying when he asked you to repeat yourself again and again because he had been reading something on his phone— you never wanted Yesung to be unhappy. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He smiled even as he wiped at his eyes. “It’s just— you surprised me, that’s all. You’ve never— I’ve never upset you before, so—” He hissed a string of curses as he reached up to wipe at his eyes again. “Ah, I’m such a crybaby!”  
Afraid of saying something to induce more tears, you tightened your hold around his hand and pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek before flipping his phone over, expressing interest in the pictures he had taken. Most depicted the tulips, or the clouds overhead, or selfies that his fans would be overjoyed to see on Twitter or Instagram. Some, however, depicted you: you beaming at the flowers, you reading the brochure distributed by the tour guide, you falling asleep in the restaurant booth just minutes before your outburst. 

When you looked at Yesung, more apologetic than ever after realizing that he  **_was_ ** paying attention— he was collecting  **_memories_ ** — his face was burning scarlet. “Don’t worry.” He took his phone and admired the pictures of you. “I’m not going to post these anywhere.” 

So, rather than losing your temper when Yesung was glued to his phone on the beach trip, you excitedly tried to peak at the moments he deemed worthy of remembrance.

“Stop that,” he whined as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to look over his shoulder. Smiling faintly, he shied away from you. “I can’t focus when you’re so close to me!”

You tutted, “Stop being weird,” and walked away from Yesung to step carefully into the water. “I wasn’t trying to be close to you. I was trying to look at the pictures!”

“Well,” he winked from a safe distance, so you couldn’t swipe at him or splash him with water for being a pervert when he said, “just wait ’til we get to the hotel room.” 

All flirtations aside, once the sun set and once he ordered dinner, Yesung sat with you on the hotel bed to swipe through the pictures he had taken throughout your first day on the beach. He offered commentary for each photo such as, “I posted this one on Instagram, and Donghae complimented the lighting!” and “Can you believe this picture of the ocean got 5,000 retweets?”

You replied enthusiastically, “Yes! It’s a beautiful picture!”

Yesung beamed at the praise, so he was smiling before he reached the picture of you taking your experimental steps into the ocean. He was smiling before he confessed, “This one is my favorite.”

Blushing, you wondered aloud, “Does it make you sad that this one won’t get compliments from Donghae or 5,000 retweets?” 

Yesung quirked his head at you, perhaps wondering where such a question had come from, and swiftly answered, “No.” His bangs fell into his eyes. “I think there’s something nice about having things that are just mine— just ours. I’m not sad.” 

And when his smile grew as he tossed his phone to the foot of the bed and threw his arms around you, you were not sad either. 


End file.
